


Musings of a love-sick mind

by Cedara



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cedara/pseuds/Cedara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glance into Orsino's mind through the events of the play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musings of a love-sick mind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Elke Tanzer

 

 

"What is thy name?" I look at the young man, his fair hair, the blue colour of his eyes, his soft lips. He is young, yet the uniform suits him. My lieutenant was right to accept him into the regiment.

"Cesario, my lord."

His voice mirrors his youth, and the innocence in his eyes speaks of a purity of the soul I have not seen for a while.

"My lieutenant says you can play the piano." Let's see if all these praises of his talent are worth the time.

"That is true, my lord."

I let myself fall down on the couch. "There are books on the instrument. Choose a song for me."

I lay down, and pulling my good arm over my eyes I wait for him to start.

He starts cautiously, yet, only after a short moment, I hear a bit of talent shining through. The song ends, and I encourage him to continue.

"If music be the food of love, play on."

Music has lately been the only medicine that calms my soul, for Olivia does not budge. Her heart is a tower whose drawbridge is still hoisted. I need this to keep the ghosts at bay. I want to soothe my pain with music.

Again, I encourage him, "Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die."

He continues playing and I listen, closely this time.

Yes, just like that. This soothes me, "That strain again! It had a dying fall, It came over my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets, stealing and giving colour."

Eyes open, I peer at Cesario and as I watch him play, the image of Olivia before my eyes fades, and I see his soft innocent frame. Reality has caught me in its clutches again.

"Enough!" I get up, walk over to him and close the piano. Cesario looks at me in surprise, and without intention, I feel a slight smile cross my face. "It is not so sweet now as it was before."

Yet, before I let Cesario's presence distract me further, Valentine returns and I read the letter Olivia's handmaid has sent to me. Am I not even worthy of a denial from her own sweet hand this time? As I read, I glance at Cesario, clutching that book between his hands, and an idea springs to my mind.

I will have to watch Cesario for a few days and nights, talk to him as I think this through, to see if he will suit my plans.

* * *

"You must think me strange, Cesario, to fall for a woman who does seem content with keeping up the memory of her dead brother instead of opening her doors for me to woo her."

"I do not think so, my lord." I see him shake his fair head in addition to his words, and it makes me smile. He has only here for a few days now, yet, I often felt his eyes upon me, watching, as I watch him at times when he does not notice my curiosity.

"Let me tell you about the beauty that is Olivia then, boy, so you may be a judge if my mind is foolish."

As I proceed to tell Cesario about the object of my admiration, her dark locks, the fair skin she has, the small waist I was allowed to touch when we danced at the ball at my house a year ago: her voice that sounds like laughter, fresh as a morning sun, yet not shrill as other women's voices can be, I watch his face. Cesario listens in concentration, thoughtful, not bored as I have caught some of my lieutenants looking at me when they hear me talking about Olivia. He asks questions, as if he seems to want to understand what pleases me about her, and I notice his presence soothes my mood.

If Olivia does not want to hear pleas of love from my lips, maybe she will listen if Cesario brings them to her.

* * *

Cesario has returned, and as I hoped, Olivia did see him.

"Now come, my boy. Tell me. How was she? What mood? What clothes she wore?" I bid him to sit beside me on the couch, to tell me every single detail, to judge how my pleas have been received.

As I listen to his tale, I watch Cesario, and as it did the first time I saw him, his face pleases me. His mind is bright and sharp, his voice soothing me, like a cool wind on a hot summer's day.

But, alas, the outcome of his visit is not in my favour, yet, at least Olivia allowed Cesario to return. I am left in good spirits.

* * *

As I return to my rooms one evening, I hear Cesario playing the song I heard yesterday, only then it had a singer. It helped to calm me.

"That old and antique song we heard last night," I address him, "Methought it did relieve my passion much."

Cesario stops playing and raises immediately, "He's not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it."

"Who was it?" I ask, and Valentine tells me it was Feste, the fool whose presence Olivia's father cherished.

"Shall I continue playing, my lord?" Cesario asks.

"Nay," I say, "Let someone else play this time." As I walk over to the table, I ask someone to bring the wine and the tobacco while one of the servants lights a fire in the hearth. I barely know anything about this boy, and I am curious what interests him, who he desires, now that I've trusted him with the depths of my love for Olivia. "Come Cesario, keep me company."

* * *

We're playing cards, and as I light his cigarette after I have lit my own, Cesario's face seems even softer in the dimness of the room. He cocks his head a little to the side and I catch myself studying his face.

"How dost thou like this tune?" I start carefully.

"It gives a very echo to the seat where love is throned," Cesario answers, and I cannot help myself but enjoy the way he eludes my quest of finding out what his likings are.

"Thou dost speak masterly," I compliment him, thus telling him I was aware of his politeness. I change my approach and ask directly if there is anyone that he fancies.

"A little, by your favour," Cesario answers.

Ah, so Cesario does have someone he fancies. "What kind of woman is 't?" I continue asking, my curiosity piqued.

"Of your complexion."

"She is not worthy of thee, then. What years, i' faith?"

"About your years, my lord," Cesario answers and I almost think he's getting uncomfortable with my curiosity, considering he prefers to look at the cards in his hands and those on the table instead of me.

Cesario is shy at times, and like me, his woman maybe appreciates this in him. Alas, throughout these last weeks, I have noticed the attention Cesario pays me, enchanted at his efforts to lift my moods. In addition, his features are most pleasing to the eye, his kindness in character completing the picture. If she who he fancies had only half my age, she would appreciate a courting as I would, had I been a woman. Still, my boy has a lot to learn. Amused as I am, I try to give him a word of the elder to the younger, as it is the custom. A woman of my age would not suit a young boy like him.

As Cesario leans back in the chair, commenting on my words, I am surprised to see a moisture in his eyes. This boy's character harbours a tenderness that mirrors his complexion and I smile in sympathy, wondering if the woman he fancies knows what a tender lover Cesario might make.

* * *

As I sit here in this bath, recollecting, I find myself wondering if Olivia's dead brother, who I have not known, had been as lovely as Cesario has been for me since he has joined my regiment. I've caught myself glancing backward at times as we were riding along the shoreline today, and I do more and more understand the sorrow Olivia must still go through. If I were to lose so pleasant a company as Cesario's, my sorrow would be deep. Only the insistent love another soul harbours for me might keep me from going into utter despair until I emerge from it, and so I hope will Olivia.

I hear Cesario enter and I bid him to step closer. While my state is not one proper for companionship, there is nothing either of us has to shy away from. Yet, he is young, and while he has still to learn about the various ways soldiers love one another, I have noticed his eyes rest on me sometimes in admiration, thus I will take his shyness for the proper gesture I deem it to be.

As he sits on a chair next to the tub, I turn my earlier mental monologue toward him. "How will she love, when the rich golden shaft hath killed the flock of all affections else that live in her; when brain and heart are all supplied with one self king." I am assured, that once Olivia has passed the sorrow of her brother's death, she will receive me, my insistence showing her the way.

My muscles ache, still sore from the ride and without spoken command, I hand Cesario the sponge. He bathes my back well and via simple sounds, I express my content. Yet, I notice that Cesario is uncomfortable and I send him on the way for another visit to my lady Olivia.

* * *

The sky slowly darkens and while I muse the strangeness of my situation, yet acknowledge the familiarity of harbouring love for more than one being at a time, I do not notice that the weather changes.

The storm approaches quicker than expected and Cesario nudges me to take shelter in one of the stables, unable to make it back to the main house before the rain starts. While the stables might not be comfortable, the place is dry and warm. Yet, we are not alone. Feste, the fool, is there, whose song we lately heard. I ask him to play for us, to pass the time.

As I sit on one side, Cesario has placed himself away from me, with the fool almost between us. As Feste starts to sing, something urges me to go over to Cesario, to put an arm around him. The way we stand, side by side in the security of the the dim light; to smell his hair, to sense his warmth is enticing, as his face comes up to meet mine.

I am unsure of following this path, yet this way seems promising, far more than my pursuit of Olivia has been so far. But alas, the fool's song ends before Cesario's lips meet mine, and as I pay the fool, his words remind me that there is always a payment for whatever path one takes.

So be it then. It is time a decision shall be made, and Olivia shall be the judge to decide which one I'll take.

END.

 

 

 


End file.
